


The Old Cardinal

by bluetoast



Series: Birds of a Feather [33]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Adam, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 12:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1551218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetoast/pseuds/bluetoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John knows he should have handled his first meeting with Dean in over ten years better. He never did handle stress well. Unfortunately, the only one to tell him in the morning about how awful his behavior is his own inner voice - and his ten year old son, Adam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Old Cardinal

John Winchester woke up with a splitting headache and his cheek still stung from where Dean had punched him yesterday. He still couldn't quite fathom what had happened last afternoon. He hadn't meant to be angry, he hadn't meant to act the way he did. Something just snapped in his mind and a long buried rage roared to life. Dean didn't deserve his anger and hate and he never did. He squinted in the room, hearing Adam get out of the other bed and head for the bathroom. Now that it was over he was ashamed of his behavior. He deserved the pain in his face from the punch and the pain in his hands from pounding on the door.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd lost his temper like that.

It'd probably been that night he'd left Dean. 

John could never be quite sure what it had been about Dean that had caused him to snap so often. He knew it was wrong to blame the boy for anything, but still – there had to be something that there was. Maybe it was his stepfather's hate of deaf people that he heard and his mom never countered, at least not in his presence. There was that and then there was Dean's face. Dean, who looked so much like Mary it terrified him even now. He could see her accusation looking back at him in those green eyes. The look of _What have you done? What do you think you're doing? Damn you, John Winchester._

He sat up, rubbing his throbbing head slowly as he heard Adam come back into the room. He nodded to his son, who blinked at him as if he were a stranger. “You sleep all right?”

Adam nodded, biting his bottom lip. “I'm almost ready to go.”

“Right.” John got up from his bed and headed to the bathroom. Things would be better once he and Adam were on the road home. Really, he hadn't needed to bring Sam out here to California, but curiosity had gotten the better of him and he'd wanted to see Dean. And he'd totally fucked that up.

He should have known better.

Even if the circumstances had been different, John knew he had no reason to expect Dean to welcome him with a hug and a smile. He'd seen Mary again in his eyes and this time, her meaning was clear _Look at Dean, John. Look how much stronger he is. You didn't put that look there._

He came out of the bathroom after having a good shower and scrubbing his teeth to find that Adam had gone down to the lobby, picked them up fruit and doughnuts from the continental breakfast. His son had also gotten the two cup coffee pot working, and it smelled wonderful. “We'll have a big lunch, okay?”

“Sure.” Adam was more focused on his juice and doughnut than him. 

John sighed, filled up a cup with coffee and set about doing a little work to help the maid when she got to this room. He frowned as he started tossing can after can of beer into the trash. How many had he had last night? He took a large sip of coffee and sat down at the small table, pulling a doughnut towards him. “How did you sleep last night?”

“I slept okay.” His son covered a yawn. “I can't promise I won't nap in the car.”

“That's okay.” He downed a good portion of his coffee. “Finish up, I want to get out of here before rush hour gets into full swing.”

“Right.” Adam stuffed the rest of his doughnut in his mouth and got up from the table.

*  
Palo Alto was well behind them. John was glad his headache was mostly gone and he took a drink from his travel mug. He glanced sideways over at Adam, who was staring out the window, the book he'd been reading lying on the seat beside him. “You okay?”

Adam nodded slowly, his head was resting on his hand.

“Come on sport, what's bothering you?” John offered him a slight grin. “You weren't this melancholy when Sam went to college last year.”

The boy took a deep breath and turned to look at him. “You're a real asshole when you're drunk, Dad.” 

“What?” John shot a glance at him, doing his best to stay focused on the road.

“I said, you're a real asshole when you're drunk, Dad.” Adam leaned back, his gaze shifting to look out the windshield. 

*  
A kid shouldn't have to tell you that you're being an asshole. It's not the kid's job to be the parent. While he never met her, Adam bore a very strong resemblance to his mother and when you have the child who looks like your mother tell you that you're an asshole and the child you abandoned who looks like your dead wife say almost the exact same thing, it shakes you. So now, here John is, holding a mug of coffee in his hands, trying to think how he's going to begin this story. How does he leave out the part with the monsters and demons? He hadn't thought of that. He hasn't even told Adam about the monsters.

At least, not that he remembers. He might have said something and his youngest never said anything. 

Taking a deep breath, he took a fairly large sip of coffee; it's amazing coffee, rich and bitter, and it reminds him of days when things weren't fucked up. Before demons and monsters, before things went south and he subjected his eldest son to an unforgivable nightmare of abuse. 

The meeting is in a basement of the local church. Above him, John can hear the choir rehearsing. He sets the mug down and looks around the circle. None of these faces are familiar – and he supposes that's the point. There's a woman whose age he can't tell because of the lines crossing her face like a road map, but her hair has no trace of gray, or dye. A burly man who reminds him of Bobby Singer, a rail thin man whose outfit costs more than the rest of their clothes combined and then there's him and a few others who all look cut from the same cloth; jeans and and flannels, overworked and too much stress in their lives, another woman who looks like she might teach school. 

Their leader is a woman who looks close to his age. She fairly radiates an aura of 'kindly librarian' and she smiles at all of them. “Good evening, everyone. How have you all been?”

A general muttering, and John responds by taking another drink of coffee.

“We have a new person with us, everyone, this is John.” 

“Hello John.” The chorus reminds him of sitting in a grade school classroom. 

He sets down his mug and offers a weak smile. “Hi.” He glances at the woman who offers an encouraging smile. “It's been uh...” He glanced at his watch. “Seventy-two hours since my last drink.” He saw a few people exchange looks. “I've been working on cleaning out the house and pouring what I find down the drain.” He picked the mug up again, took a sip and held onto the mug, scanning the faces. They don't judge, they look back at him the same way certain hunters do at the Roadhouse. Faces that say _I understand._ “I'm here because my youngest kid told me I'm an asshole when I drink.”

The lined-faced woman looks up from her own coffee mug and she nods slowly. Perhaps something similar has happened to her.

“It's not my kid's job to be the parent. It's my job and I can't do that job if I'm wasted to the point where I can't remember things I've said.” John feels his face flush with shame, but looking around the circle, he still sees that compassionate look. He takes another gulp of coffee for courage. “I lost something to booze years ago. In a moment of sobriety, I left a child I was incapable of raising in a hospital ER. I'll never get him back, and to this day I don't know if I wish I'd stayed sober then and been the father he needed, or been thankful I left him with people who could care for him in the way he deserved.”

The impeccably dressed man looks way for a moment, his own cheeks turning pink. 

Maybe he understood that too.

John wasn't going to judge. He was going to stick with this – because Adam needed him to stay sober. Sam needed him to stay sober. Kate needed him to stay sober – and he owed both Dean and Mary the same. 

This was day four – and as he'd been taught in the Marines, the only easy day was yesterday.


End file.
